The 1922 Masterpiece
I will start with an apology, I had every intention of writing this in December, instead I wrote a blog on spending Christmas alone. This delay raises the problem that the reader may well surmise this piece is about the latest version of ‘Nosferatu’ which is currently showing in cinemas now. I am going to see this version at the end of January; and will certainly be writing about it. However, this blog is about a wonderful trip to the cinema I had in October; to see the original 1922 silent version of ‘Nosferatu’ with a live improvised musical score.
I have a love of silent films; especially the early exploration of the dark side of cinema. I was not disappointed, it was a totally immersive experience of vision, sound and environment, filling the senses and pulling the viewer into the heart of this dark story. It is impossible to talk about this as it was experienced, as this all-encompassing magical event; it unfortunately requires breaking down to its component parts, to convey the whole. So, for this reason I will break it down into three parts; The Venue, The Music, and The Film there is no hierarchy here, it’s just a convenience.
I have seen many silent films at various venues, mainly with recorded soundtracks, not live accompaniment. However, back in 1998 I went to St Nicholas’ church Harwich, which is actually next to the Electric Palace cinema to watch another silent classic. It was ‘La Passion De Jeanne D’Arc’, 1927, by Carl Theodor Dreyer with a live musical score by the Essex Symphony Orchestra. This like ‘Nosferatu’ had a very troubled release although in this instance with clerical and governmental authorities. It was an experience that has stayed with me. The performance was totally mesmerising, leaving your senses overwhelmed, and a lasting sense of joy, a truly life-affirming experience. So, with these thoughts, I contacted ‘M’ to see if she would like to hopefully share this type of life-affirming experience; it was never going to be an ‘easy sell’. ‘M’, is not a great fan of films in general, and why would you watch a film with no sound? I promised a takeaway first, it worked.
The Venue
I have written about the wonders of the Electric Palace before in my Blog 'On the Couch: Cinema as Therapy'. The Electric Palace is a magical place, it’s as if you are transported back in time. Even when watching new releases there is a sense of the past in the present. In recent times It is the only cinema I visit; and this is about once a month. Last year I did go to a multiplex, Imax cinema in Ipswich. For me it was all a bit overwhelming, and that was just the foyer! It had a coffee shop and every type of food vendor imaginable, and on entering the auditorium the size of the screen took my breath away. We, I had been taken by my son, had gone to see ‘Civil War’, 2024, by Alex Garland, to say it was overwhelming is an understatement. I spent a lot of the film taking cover from incoming fire. I am pleased I experienced it, but for me it will never replace the pleasure of going to my spiritual home, the Electric Palace.
The reason I bring this up here, is it makes me imagine how people back in 1911 must have sat in awe at seeing, possibly for the first time a ‘moving picture’, ironically the first film shown at the Palace was ‘The Battle of Trafalgar and the Death of Nelson’. It must be something about war films? For the showing of ‘Nosferatu’, they were going to use the original ‘silent screen’. So, without a doubt this was the perfect venue for the screening. It was well attended, better than for some of the new releases, which was a surprise. Whilst this was good for the cinema it did have one small draw back, the couple behind us insisted on laughing! They were probably the sort that would go to the Museo Reina Sofia in Madrid and laugh at ‘Guernica’ because of the funny people and animals! This was a small price to pay for a wonderful experience though.
For me the Palace is a portal to another time, before streaming, and home cinema; when going to the cinema was something to get excited about, a time of magic. As much for me growing up in the 1960’s and 70’s as it was for those in earlier times; It is a gateway to the past. So that’s our venue, now to the music.
The Music
Max Hugo, is extremely talented he is of British/Austrian descent, a filmmaker, musician, and painter. He regularly accompanies silent films with live improvised scores on the solo viola at the Prince Charles Cinema in London’s West End.
This performance was part of a United Kingdom tour, comprising of five silent classics in various historic cinemas. His aim is not to add extra meaning to the film, but to give it a voice. His methodology is for him to watch the film first, then to perform the improvised live score in front of an audience. I have to admit I am rather ignorant when it comes to the technical aspects of music, but to coin the old adage ‘I know what I like’. I have a passion for improvised music; and have been a jazz fan for many years. Using improvision is the surest way to add nuance to the moment, to bring the audience and film into sync.
Max Hugo because, of his wonderful, musicality never overpowers the visual, but breathes life into the characters, landscape, and mood. The music becomes the bridge between the audience and film; creating a mesmerising bond that lasts long after the film has finished. This magic is created with just the viola and a very pared back use of piano and percussion. It was a true masterclass in the creation of a musical score, never overwhelming but underpinning what was on the screen. Which brings us to the centrepiece of the evening the film.
The Film
I won’t go into the actual plot of the film here as anyone who has watched a vampire film will already know the story. That is how important this groundbreaking film is, it invented the ‘visual language’ of the horror genre. To the extent if you have never seen ‘Nosferatu’, it feels as if you have; because of this feeling of deja vu the film shifts from frightening as it would have been to earlier audiences to a sense of the uncanny for those who watch it today.
It is a masterpiece of the German Expressionist movement. Its use of visual distortion, the hyper-expressive performances, to reflect the inner turmoil’s, desires, and sense of dread. It also invented the tropes that have become the staple of the horror genre. These are now the stock in trade of the genre and were formulated here. The enigmatic stranger, Count Orlok in ‘Nosferatu’ but more likely to be known as Count Dracula in later films; is often from another country, starting out cordial, but becoming increasingly menacing; revealing his supernatural, evil intent. The mountain top castle, forebodingly casting its shadow over the surrounding landscape. The disfigured servant, physically, psychologically, or most likely both. The use of shadow to create a sense of creeping dread; also used to great effect in the creation of ‘Film Noir’. It also uses creatures that most people find unpleasant, rats, with the spreading of disease, also spiders and flies. As counterpoint to this character is the heroine, pure of heart, who becomes the unwitting focus of desire, her only hope of survival is her purity, helped by a band of brave young men, and an expert in the field of the occult never goes amiss.
The film has been accused in some circles as having antisemitic undertones. It cannot be denied that there were antisemitic feelings in Europe in 1922, and some of the tropes did play into antisemitism. This can be witnessed later by Hitler’s propagandists use of scurrying rats and caricatures of Jewish people, insinuating that they were a scourge. Indeed, in a deviation from the original Bram Stoker novel, Count Orlok brings rats with him, which spread plague throughout the town. This is indeed troubling, but it has been argued that this was not a conscious act by the director F. W. Murnau, who it was said was friendly and protective to a number of Jewish people. It has also been argued that Murnau would be more sensitive to the persecution of subgroups within society because of his homosexuality. So, whilst undoubtably the film was groundbreaking it was also of its time.
The film had a very troubled beginning, the budget was extremely tight, an example of how this was turned into an advantage is the end of the film, rather than following the plot of the book, Count Orlok dies when subjected to sunlight, again creating another trope.
Budgetary difficulties were to pale into insignificance. Despite the film makers changing the names of characters, moving the main action from England to Germany and tweaking the plot; disaster loomed. In 1923 Florence Stoker the widow of Bram the author of the original book filed a law suit in the German courts for copyright infringement. She won, the court ordered the film was to be destroyed. However, some prints survived, thanks to film enthusiasts and international distribution. The rest as they say is history, the film grew an ever-increasing cult status. What could have been a catastrophe helped the film flourish; giving future generations the visceral pleasure of this masterpiece. That’s where our story should end; but there is a little more to come. To add another layer of creepiness to ‘Nosferatu’.
The director F. W. Murnau continued to have a successful career in film, moving to Hollywood. Where he was to die in 1931 age 42 in a car accident. His body was transported to Germany for burial in a tomb. In 2015 the tomb was broken into and his remains disturbed, it was reported that wax residue was found, leading some to speculate, some form of ritual had been carried out. Most disturbing of all: the scull had been stolen. It has never been recovered.
Then there is the tale of Count Orlok or to be more precise the actor Max Schreck, by all accounts he was an unusual man. Despite having a successful career as an actor, he never craved fame, he was most happy on his own taking long walks in isolated countryside. His outstanding performance as Count Orlok and his physicality started the myth that he was not acting, but a real vampire. The name Shreck means ‘fright’ in German. This myth led to a film being made ‘Shadow of the Vampire’, 2000, E. Elias Merhige, with Willem Dafoe, playing the part of Shreck as a vampire; Dafoe incidentally is in the 2024 version of ‘Nosferatu’, Robbert Eggers. Max Schreck died of a heart attack in 1936 at the age of 56, he was cremated and his ashes were interned in his mother’s grave. As the Vampire occupies a liminal space between life and death so to in his way did Shreck. The graveyard he was interned in was in the ‘No Mans Land’ in the Berlin Wall, between East and West Germany, so couldn’t be visited until the wall came down in 1989.
When all three of these elements, The Venue, The Music, The Film are put together, it creates magic, a portal into another world: it was a truly wonderful experience.
I must finish with one last major actor involved in this enchanting evening. What about ’M’? As we were leaving the Electric Palace she was enthusing over this all-encompassing experience. Would she do it again? Most definitely: with a takeaway first, obviously!
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